After Raymond

He had just popped out

Or so it seemed

His daughter said to me

His house his room

Now like a dream

Of how things used to be

 

All her cards collected kept

And notes lying here and there

Observations written

Left in books

Hanging in the air

 

And precious words he spoke to her

Just before he died

Remember those who went before

And live life well he sighed

 

And now the annual Christmas card

Arriving in my door

The dark black ink I recognise

Siobhan Siobhan a stor

 

Brian Fahy

22 December 2021  

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